


Tricks and Treats

by ussgallifrey221b



Series: To Build a Home [17]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Halloween, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Parenthood, dad!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 03:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ussgallifrey221b/pseuds/ussgallifrey221b
Summary: Halloween wasn't always like this in the Barnes household. In fact, they have seventeen years worth of them under their belts to prove it. The holiday goes through many variations over the years. This is just a glimpse into a few of them.





	Tricks and Treats

**2025**

The very first Halloween spent together is chaotically busy in the usual way. The world of superheroes is rarely slow. And on a night like All Hallows Eve, crime seems to kick into overdrive.

You find yourself circling through traffic cams, following the line of black vans through turning city streets. Your shift had technically ended already, but at SHIELD it was part of the job to stay until the mission was finished. Even if it meant you were glued to a series of computers for hours on end, waiting for the targets to make their mark.

Discreetly sending Bucky a text under the desk, informing him of the holdup. It’s no real surprise when you don’t receive a reply.

At SHIELD, classic office decor is a rarity. The only sign that the Halloween season is here are the small bowls of candy located on certain employees' desks. And not even the good stuff, but hard caramels and butterscotch, and god forbid, someone actually has a heaping bowl of candy corn.

You sip lukewarm coffee from your _ Resting Witch Face _mug and count the minutes on the clock. Focus switching between the route and your own personal interests. The thought of a blue-eyed beauty with a kissable face invades your thoughts more often than can be properly helped.

Three hours later, you're finally able to drag yourself home. Grateful to drop the next part of the mission off onto a colleague. And it takes a monumental effort to climb the five flights of stairs to your apartment but, by God, you do it.

Admittedly, after opening the front door, you're a bit disappointed to find the lights still off and your boyfriend nowhere in sight. It's the lingering emptiness in the pit of your stomach, that tug on your heart. That insistent need to have him near was constantly grabbing at your thoughts.

Flicking on the entry light, you drop your purse on the kitchen counter, ready to lounge for a while. After changing into more comfortable clothes and re-applying some makeup, you situate yourself on the couch with a helping of mixed candy in a purple spiderweb bowl.

After moving in together with threadbare decor, you had dragged Bucky out and had spotted the beginnings of Halloween at the stores. Back to School clearance pushed to the side as pumpkins and autumn wreaths took their place. The apartment is still lacking some personal touches, but between your shifts and his on-call life, you're working on it. It's only been a month anyway.

You had all but squealed when you saw the black and white ceramic pumpkins, inflatable ghosts, and zombie masks on display. Even grabbing a lilac throw pillow that said _ Witch, Please _. And when you held it up to him and laughed, he snatched it up and put it right in the cart. Whatever made you smile, even if he didn't completely understand the reference, he would buy for you.

And now you have black and orange lights strung up along the entertainment center. A scattering of different colored and shaped pumpkins throughout the tiny studio apartment. And two throw pillows. The lilac one and a black and white one that reads _ Killing It _.

It all still feels so new and strange. It's been a complete whirlwind kind of romance, starting just after a mission in Vietnam. And definitely taking off after that kiss in Mombasa. Only four months of dating before you got a place together. If your head could drop back under the clouds for a minute, maybe you could realize just how insane that was, but with Bucky, nothing seemed to follow the usual rules of relationships.

Just after eleven, when you're halfway through the second repeat of _ Hocus Pocus _, he trudges through the front door. Looking, physically, no worse for wear. But his steps seem heavier, a little more sluggish. It looks like he wants nothing more than to slump against the door, but then he sees you and perks right up. You can't help but beckon him forward with a tantalizing finger.

He has the nerve to look behind himself, as if there was anyone else you could be seeking out. You laugh as he strides over to the couch. Plopping down next to you and wrapping you into his arms. You greedily turn to meet his lips in an inviting kiss. His hands are already gripping your shirt like he's eager to tear another one of your belongings in an attempt to get to your bare skin faster.

When a large hand squeezing and cupping your breasts has you moaning into his mouth, you know it's over for you. The candy bowl gets knocked to the floor as he climbs on top of you. And when he pauses for just a moment to let you catch your breath, he's grinning like a witch's cat and you can't help but giggle.

Smoothing your hair back, you let out a breathless, "Hi."

He drops a kiss to your chest, maintaining eye contact the whole time as he gives you a rumbling, "_ Hi _."

It’s just like the first time you kissed behind that cafe in Mombasa, that sudden trepidation overpowered by needs and emotions. That cocky smile that breaks out every time he kisses you like he’s the luckiest bastard in the universe.

Wandering hands creep up and down your sides, toying with the hem of your shirt to skate up warm skin. When Bucky surges forward to kiss you again, you turn so he ends up pecking your cheek. His confused expression makes you laugh as you give his chest a light push.

With a little smirk, "You know the rules: disarm before you get it on."

He rolls his eyes but begrudgingly sits back on his haunches as he starts depositing the assorted guns and knives onto the coffee table. And you wait for him to get the tac vest off, the three knives in his boots, and eventually his boots entirely.

When he patiently holds his arms out for you to inspect his job, you sit up. Run your hands over his chest thoughtfully before you tug him right back down on top of you, making Bucky give a throaty like _ oh! _ in surprise.

* * *

**2026**

The following year is a completely different scenario. _ Hocus Pocus _still plays on the TV and there's a small bowl of candy in the middle of the coffee table. A wandering white kitten bats at the styrofoam pumpkins on the entertainment center. And a baby, less than four weeks old and dressed in a purple skeleton onesie, is situated on your chest.

There's far less… _ activities _ . Bucky unwraps bits of assorted candy - as quietly as he can without waking Rebecca - before holding them up for you to eat. Skillfully avoiding the ones that you hate without much thought. Happy to eat whatever you won't. Working in synchronicity without even looking at each other. He, admittedly, hadn't fully paid attention to the Halloween movies last year. There were far more _ interesting _ things for him to discover. But now that you're both exhausted beyond belief and feel the need to remain completely vegetated on the couch, he has time to actually follow along with the movie.

And when he holds out a mini chocolate bar for you and you don't immediately take it between your lips, Bucky turns to find you asleep. Your head tilted to the side as your chest rises and falls with slow breaths. Rebecca's still curled up against you, head resting on the burp cloth on your right shoulder.

He lets himself linger on the sight of his two girls, committing the moment to memory. Kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, he takes the chocolate for himself and even let's Alpine hop onto his lap as the Sanderson sisters disappear with the morning sunrise.

* * *

**2027**

With Rebecca securely situated in the baby wrap, happily drooling on your back as you browse the selection in front of you, Bucky does the usual sweep. Eyes working over every farmer and old lady at the market, leaning a little closer than what's necessary. Ready to jump and protect you both in case… well, just in case. Those kinds of thoughts just can't stop eating at his conscious mind. Even here, in a relatively safe place, Bucky's still on high alert.

When you thank the woman behind the stall and hand her your last twenty, you turn to smile up at him and he manages to forget about his fears for just a second; only a second. And then you're pointing at the giant pumpkin in the middle of the row with a big old smile and he feels his sides shake with a laugh.

You wrap your hand around his right arm and drop your head to his shoulder with a dreamy and sweet voice, "It's her first _ real _ Halloween. I couldn't deny her. Come on, Buck."

You even pout and bat your lashes for effect. You already had him wrapped around your finger, but god that's the last straw, isn't it?

"Anything for you, _ dear _."

You smack his butt with a crystal laugh, bright and gorgeous in the midday light.

He gives a little grunt as he shifts the three canvas bag handles to his left hand before walking through the lines of pumpkins to grab the biggest one. Lifting it up with his right hand, pushing it against his hip, until he has it safely secured under his arm.

You turn to let Becca tap it with excited little squeals. And yeah, it was totally worth it. Her eyes are wide and she even let's go of the fist she had been furiously sucking on.

Looking at him over your shoulder, you sing-song, "We can carve it when we get home. _ Hocus Pocus _ should be on by then!"

Bucky's face drops, "Seriously? Can't we watch something el- "

"It's a Halloween classic!" You huff, but your eyes are playfully glinting in the afternoon light.

Looking down at Rebecca and then back to you, he finds himself nodding, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, baby."

You all but skip to the car in delight, regaling him with the entire plot of the movie _ again _ and the superior nature of the film and how it really just stands the test of time. And he nods as he puts all the produce into the trunk and helps get Rebecca into her car seat. Never admitting that he thinks the Peanuts' Halloween special holds up better.

When you're on the road, heading back home from the farmer's market, you pause from the speal to give him that warm smile. Sneaking your hand onto his thigh as he grips the steering wheel.

"Or, we could watch _ The Addams Family _."

And, God, he really wants to kiss you senseless right there and then. But you just unwrap a caramel apple sucker and give him a heated wink, licking it with a doe-eyed look as you take in the changing colors of the trees passing by.

* * *

**2028**

Gabe's only been home for about a month now. And you're still getting into the strange routine of having _ two kids _. So, you're more than grateful for Bucky to take Becca out for trick r' treating. And, okay, he felt really hesitant about it. Because, well, you've never done it before and he'd much rather have you here with him. But you need to be with Gabe.

It doesn't start out well. Even before they get out of the house. You see, Gabe was fine. Happily resting in your arms, wearing a hand-me-down pumpkin onesie that was still a hair too big for him. It was Rebecca who was having a meltdown.

For a full month, she insisted on being a cat for Halloween. He bought her the costume three weeks ago. She wore it just about everywhere and seemed to be in love with it. Then, an hour ago, you had gotten her into it and were in the process of painting on whiskers for her. And that's when it went downhill.

Bucky had been holding Gabe at the time when he heard horrific crying streaming out from the bathroom. His poor red-faced baby girl screaming up a storm as you wiped the whiskers off her chubby cheeks with a wet cloth. But at that point, she really wanted nothing to do with the whole costume. Throwing her cat ear headband to the floor with an angry huff. It had taken some calming down, but when she insisted on _ "no kitty! Becca no kitty!" _ with crossed arms and an angry scowl, you ran up to her room and found her little blue dress-up princess costume.

So, this is how he finds himself at the community center with a little girl dressed like Cinderella - minus the glass slippers and a little red still hanging around the edges of her eyes.

He's got his hood pulled up and gloved left hand shoved into his jacket pocket as he carries Rebecca towards the hall. She had been so excited but now seemed rather hesitant about the whole ordeal. Clutching her purple pumpkin bucket tightly in her little hands as she tucks her chin into his collar.

"Hey," Bucky pauses at the front door, sensing the trepidation. "You okay?"

She nods, then buries her face into his shoulder.

"Still want to do this?" He asks softly.

Another small nod, slower than the first.

He pulls her back a little, making her look up at him. His smile is gentle as he gazes down at the baby blues of his little girl. "Cause we don't have to. We can get candy at home."

She seems to perk up at the mention of candy.

Bucky scoots out of the way as a family heads for the front door. He watches the way Rebecca follows the three kids with her gaze. All excitedly talking as they all but run down the decorated hall. She watches them disappear before looking back at him with wide eyes.

"We go? Candy?"

Bucky studies her for a moment, "You want to go in?"

She nods furiously, legs kicking in his grasp.

"And you want down?" he laughs, letting her slide down to the ground.

She pushes her face against the front door, taking in the simple decor and line of costumed kids. Bucky gives a little nudge as he opens the door for her.

"After you, your majesty."

* * *

**2029**

See, this Halloween seems to hold a little more weight to it than the others. Maybe it's because it feels like he just got back. But you really try to go all out. For the kids, of course. Because you both want things to feel normal - they _ are _ normal.

October 1st was the start of the mayhem. You had sent him out with a list and he came home three hours later with a car full of stuff. And then he spent the rest of the afternoon on the exterior work as two little faces watched him, squished up against the windowpane.

Bucky tied corn stalks to the front porch columns, hanged pumpkin-shaped lights along the awning, a wispy ghost figure above the end of the porch, a scarecrow for the porch swing. Hay bales along the front of the porch. And expertly placed pumpkins, which you helped with when the kids were down for their naps.

And then Bucky painstakingly placed staked-in orange lights all the way down the walkway and your half-mile of driveway. When you thought he was almost done, he had disappeared in the car again and came back almost an hour later with the biggest pumpkin you'd ever seen.

He had shrugged helplessly when you gaped at him. Placing it right in view of the living room windows, just a few steps away from the porch.

The kids had been delighted beyond belief when they woke up. Surprised to see the change outside and even more excited when the sky darkened and the lights came on; orange glow against the night sky.

And when they went to bed, you then spent the rest of the night (and part of the early morning) finishing up the inside of the house. Archways and the stair rails were laced with lights. Assorted ceramic pumpkins for the kitchen. Styrofoam pumpkins for the living room. Black cats and ghosts and smiling skeleton decor.

By the front door, on the small accent table, you placed a pair of black and green witches boots, a wooden black cat, and a potion book. A broom with little fairy lights rested next to it on the floor. And a sign that read _ "Witch Parking Only. All others will be toad." _ was hung above it.

Lastly, Bucky placed a Mickey and Minnie Mouse (dressed as a skeleton and a vampire, respectfully) on the couch as a last-minute surprise for the kids. Which he had to keep fending off from Alpine, who had given up on the too-high to claw garland and now seemed rather taken by the frills of Minnie’s skirt.

And that was only the first day.

The next few were spent outside, jumping in the various leaf piles that Bucky kept making up. A trip to the library for a free viewing of _ It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! _ with complimentary candy, of course. And Bucky was even tricked into grabbing two bags worth of Halloween-themed books on the way out as well.

On the fifth, Rebecca had a not-so-scary birthday party. Rainbows and unicorns contrasting the spooky bats and pumpkins already displayed.

But he kept trying. Trying to make up for the stupid mission he had been on. Maybe he was trying to win them over, maybe it was just making up for lost time. But now that the kids were all about Dad again, Bucky just kept going. Even if they weren't going to remember this, being only three and one, he would. And he wanted to make those moments count.

He buys refills for the candy bowl almost daily. You browse the displays at the local stores and eventually head into the city to go costume shopping. A little shocked when Rebecca gravitates towards the Captain Hook costume in the boys' section. But you just shrug and search for an option for Gabe - which ends up being a parrot.

A not-so-haunted family-friendly hayride at the pumpkin patch. A petting zoo. A giant hay maze for toddlers. And rows and rows and rows of pumpkins. Bucky happily pulls the green wagon with your picks, Rebecca excitedly squealing on top of them, through the muddy fields of the farm.

You drink apple cider and eat mini doughnuts inside the cider mill. Bags of Honeycrisp apples for you to take home, two gallons of cider, and three packages of doughnuts. One of which disappears entirely before you even make it to the front door. Bucky swears up and down he doesn’t know what happened to it as he licks powdered sugar from his fingers.

Together, when the kids are asleep on the night before Halloween, you rest on the couch with a giant pumpkin pie between you. Bucky has the can of whipped cream, which you keep drizzling over it as you eat directly from the tin pan. Alpine's asleep at your feet, having been unsuccessful in his mission to mooch and beg for pie. Naturally, _ Hocus Pocus _is playing in the background. And he hates to admit it, but he's really starting to like it after years of forced watching.

Around a mouthful of pie and cream, you nudge him with your knee, "I don't know how we're going to top this next year."

Bucky relaxes against the gray couch cushions, wiggles his socked feet on the coffee table. "Probably should get to work on the haunted house then."

You nod, "We've got the land - "

"And the time."

The way he says it gives you pause. Turning to look at him, you catch the desperate look in your husband's eyes. You reach out to hold his hand, ready to calm the storm brewing in his mind.

"Yeah," you're caught off guard by how broken it comes out, but you swallow it down.

Bucky squeezes your hand tightly. As if to anchor himself to you and say: _ I'm not going anywhere. _

You force the lump in your throat away. Now's the time to relax and savor the calm before the storm. He's here and he's not leaving again.

It takes a moment, but you return to the movie and the pie. Enjoying the silence that a house with sleeping children brings. Especially when you know the sugar high they'll be riding tomorrow night.

And then you catch it, it starts small - just the twitch of the corner of his mouth - and then slowly grows to a full smile. Bucky gives a silent laugh, shakes his head. Looks like a boy you’ve only seen sepia-toned pictures of, a faded memory of himself peeking through the man he presently is.

You hold your fork up to his mouth expectantly, "What's got you so smiley, Sarge?"

He opens his mouth for you to feed him the bite of pie. Swallowing, he looks at you with bright blue eyes, "Nothing, baby. Just happy is all."

You give a slow nod, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. Enjoying the warmth of his body, solid and true and supporting your weight. He's here to stay and everything is going to be fine.

Bucky turns to kiss your head. And after a moment takes a tiny bit of whip cream from the pie and dabs it on the end of your nose.

* * *

**2030**

Living in the country had its benefits. Extra land, tranquility and a slowed-down way of living. The nearest neighbors were two miles in either direction. And town was another five. So, you load everyone into the car and make the trip to the community center, or the church parking lot where the kids can go trunk 'r treating - which is a seriously weird but oddly wonderful concept.

You had just gotten home - maybe fifteen minutes ago - with bags full of candy. And when you brought the kids inside, you discovered that Gabe had managed to hide a few pieces in his hand and had successfully rubbed melted chocolate all over his face and clothes on the journey back. After he was cleaned off, you had disappeared down the hall to try and get the stains out of his jeans. This left Bucky with two toddlers on a post trick 'r treating high.

As most things happen with toddlers, he had turned his back for a moment to toe of his shoes. Luckily, that serum is good for something every now and then.

Excited laughter and the squeak of couch springs turns into a shrill cry. Diving forward, Bucky manages to catch Gabriel before he head dives onto the floor. Scooping the hyper boy into his arms, he turns to look at the guilty-looking four-year-old.

"Rebecca Elizabeth - "

"I'm sorry!" She's quick to apologize, refusing to meet his gaze as she plops down onto the couch cushions.

He tuts, putting Gabe down onto the floor after assessing him for any damage. The two-year-old takes off at full speed in nothing but his diaper. Bucky turns back to his daughter.

"Yeah, we talked about this, didn't we?"

She nods furiously, staring down at her lap.

"I think we're done with the candy for now," he swipes up her bucket, and the look she gives him? Well, he instantly feels like an asshole.

You, luckily, are walking right up behind him, hand rubbing your ever-growing bump. Looking between him, the bucket, Rebecca, and the half-naked toddler trying to tear down the bat-shaped garland hanging from the fireplace mantel.

"What's going on?"

Bucky swivels and hands you the bucket, happy to take that sense of guilt out of his hands. "Becca?"

She fidgets with the hem of her sparkly pink costume before relenting, "I was jumpin' and Gabe was up here and he fell."

You hum in understanding, placing the bucket on the kitchen counter before going back to her. "Yeah, candy and jumping. Not a good mix. Dad's right, no more candy tonight."

She starts to whine and Bucky wants nothing more than to give her back her stash, but you wedge yourself in front of him - you already know he's a softie when it comes to this kind of stuff.

"Not happening, Becca Bear."

For good measure, you swipe up Gabe's as well. Just to be safe. And when you're doing that, she pulls the classic pout on him. Big blue eyes and sad little lip wobble, like she's been practicing for a moment like this.

When you move down the hall, Bucky's ready to do it. Make a dash for the bucket and give her one or two pieces. But you know that and call out from the bathroom:

"Do it, Barnes, and you won't get to see _ my _costume tonight."

He immediately straightens up. _ Costume? What costume? _

You pad back into the kitchen and playfully pat his cheek.

"Good boy. I'll try to be a good little _ kitten _ for you tonight," your words drip with something naughty and forbidden. And Bucky wants to know just what they may entail.

You stride past him, let a hand daringly stray down to his belt buckle. When Bucky turns to smack your butt, you just grin and purr, "Me_ -ow _!"

And before he can make good on it, wrap his arms around you and kiss you like you deserve, there's a _ thud _ followed by an angry cry in the living room. You're there first, scooping Gabriel into your arms.

Bucky inspects the torn garland and the little boy scream-whining about an owie on his butt. Followed by his sister fake-crying and pulling on his jeans. And then she starts to really wail because she remembered the candy. You shoot him a sympathetic look over Gabe's head as he scoops up the tantruming little unicorn. Never a dull moment. 

* * *

**2031**

Bucky's not entirely sure how he ended up here. Standing in the middle of a pumpkin patch with five kindergartners running rampant around him. Sure, you had Gabe and Timothy at home. But it still escapes him as to why _ he _ became a chaperone on this field trip. If Sam could see him now, he thinks ruefully. Winter Soldier incapable of handling the strain of five kindergartners.

The two teachers and four other parents had their hands full as they descended upon the family farm. Giving the kids a full tour, cider and doughnuts, and then sending them off to pick their own pumpkins in the field.

Rebecca is happy to stay by his side as the four other kids search for the right pumpkin. And when he lets his gaze wander from the other groups to the two boys in his care, he finds a rather amusing argument breaking out.

"I can lift it," the blonde-haired boy insists. He reminds Bucky of someone from the past, similar in stature and conviction.

The red-head shakes his head, "Can not!"

"Can too!"

"Can not!"

"Can too!"

He should probably do something, but the boy is finally bending down and struggles to pick up a massive pumpkin the size of his five-year-old torso. He teeters for a moment before landing back on his butt.

There's a sudden tug on his jeans. He looks down at the curly-haired girl with bright pink glasses.

"Mr. Rebecca's Dad?"

He crouches down to her level and tries to give an encouraging smile, "Yeah, what's up?"

She shuffles for a moment, nervously looking at her sneakers before replying in a quiet little voice, "We forgot a wagon."

"Huh?"

And then he looks at the other groups, loading their pumpkins up in green wagons and heading back to the main barn. Whoops.

"Uhm," he looks down at the group of children that are suddenly circled around him. Staring at him with wide concerned eyes. He looks at the pumpkins and then at them and then he has an idea.

Five kindergartners walk behind him as they make it to the inside of the barn, where the other kids stand up and start to gape in wonder.

"Wow! Look at him!"

"Becca's dad is strong!"

"My dad's stronger!"

"No, he isn't!"

"He's got a hundred pumpkins!"

The headteacher is quick to guide him over to an empty spot by the picnic tables, sputtering as she gestures to the heap in his arms, "Do you need a hand with that, Mr. Smith?"

Bucky grins as he carefully deposits the five large gourds onto the hay-strewn floor, "Nah, we got."

Becca's right there next to him, beaming like he's the coolest thing she's ever seen. Maybe he doesn't mind field trips so much after that.

* * *

**2032**

You elbow Bucky, laughing as you desperately try to push him away from the counter. For the fourth time. But he sticks his finger back in the bowl of frosting with ease. Only shuffling away when you hold the spatula up with mischievous intent.

"Baby," you start. "I love you, but get the fuck out of my way."

He stares at you with winter blue eyes as he licks the purple frosting from his finger, swirling his tongue around the digit as he maintains eye contact. You have the room to yourself for the next hour and a half. Becca's at school and the boys are napping. Anything could happen.

Your mouth opens a little at the display, unable to help yourself.

Smirking when he realizes just what effect he's having, he sidles in closer, wrapping his arms around your middle. Snookering his face into your warm neck. And you manage to see a glimpse of a younger, more confident Bucky Barnes. He always says you bring that out in him, this playfully cocky figure.

"Buck. I have - " your breath hitches as he kisses your neck, sucking lightly.

You give an involuntary moan, before straightening in his embrace. He pulls back, smiling sweetly, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

"If you help me, I'll let you lick the bowl."

He laughs, loud and throaty. Finally pulling away from you so you can get back to decorating for the class party. The party that Rebecca had signed up you up for. Without telling you until the day before.

"Okay, okay," he slowly regains his composure. "What'd you need me to do?"

You set him to work on the opposite side of the kitchen. Slicing up the Rice Krispie treats into equal sizes. You keep checking to make sure he isn't stealing any from the bowl, but he remains a man of honor. When you're done with the cupcakes, you bring over the melted chocolate and food coloring for dipping. He dabs your nose with orange icing and you swipe a streak of green across his forehead.

Monster treats and bat cupcakes get packed away before he brings you the last spoon of icing to lick clean. Eyes heavy with lust as he watches you slowly suck the sugary sweet icing clean with purposeful movements.

"Mmm," he grabs the spoon and tosses it in the general vicinity of the sink before he walks you back into the counter with a surging sugar-sweet kiss.

* * *

**2033**

The penthouse party is entirely out of your mutual comfort zones. But you had promised Pepper and, at the time, it had seemed like a good excuse to get out for a date night. But, surrounded by obscenely rich socialites, charity donors, and even other Avengers seems to be too much. But it was for a good cause and you had been eager to get a night away from the kids.

Compared to your usual decor, the ballroom is elegantly done with black and golds. Five-star catering without any edible monster eyeballs or vampire fangs in sight. The only giveaway that it's even a Halloween-themed event is the music. Instrumental versions of classic horror movie themes. The simple masquerade-style masks of the super-rich and the more formal costumes that everyone else wears.

"Finally managed to escape for a night?" Bucky turns from your conversation to see Sam walking towards you, dressed as an elegant swashbuckling pirate.

He steps forward to embrace him in a loose one-armed hug, "Hey, man."

Sam smiles at Bucky, studying him for a moment before turning to you. He beams, giving a polite head nod.

"He giving you any trouble?"

You smile sweetly as you wrap your hand around Bucky's forearm, anchoring yourself, "No more than usual."

He laughs, genuine and bordering on proud.

"And, what, you're just relieving the old days or?" Sam gestures at your simple costumes.

Smirking, you let the feathered edges of your dress flutter out. "Jean Harlow look-alike. And what was it, Cary Grant or James Stewart?"

Bucky preens, straightening his back with pride as you run your fingers across his lapel. When you had gotten ready earlier, seeing him like a classic movie star really made you wonder what Bucky had been like before the war. It was a man you would never know. Even photographs of him at the time were lost to history. He was either a famous Commando or the fist of HYDRA. Anything before that? Gone.

With a shake of your head, you look back at Sam, "It was either this or a bottle of ketchup and mustard. The couples' costumes were atrocious this year."

Bucky detangles from your grasp, but only to drape his arm across your shoulder protectively. "Not to mention, we did it last minute."

You nod, looking up at Bucky, "Yeah. Very last minute."

Sam gives a thoughtful nod before slapping Bucky on the shoulder, "Glad you're here. Someone to talk to. I still can't get used to this gig. Don't know how Steve kept up with it."

Bucky blanks for a moment before regaining his composure, "It's why you got the shield, man."

You wrap your right arm around his waist, give him a tight squeeze. Maybe you weren't the only one who needed to feel anchored right now.

"Yeah, yeah. Could have done without the bureaucracy, though." He smiles at someone over your shoulder, gives a parting goodbye as he disappears into the crowd.

You look at each other. At the various partygoers and the black-tux orchestra.

"I kind of hate this," you admit after a moment.

He's quick to wrap his arms around your middle, drawing you close to kiss the top of your head. "Knew I married you for a reason."

Sighing contentedly as you take in his special _ going out _ cologne, you peer up at him and aren't surprised to see him looking down at you with a warm expression.

"You mean, it wasn't just for my uncanny ability to look like Jean Harlow?"

Another warm laugh and a kiss to your forehead, he pulls you impossibly closer. "Might have helped."

You lean back in his embrace.

"Did I mention I had a crush on her as a kid?" he asks suddenly.

Smiling with sultry red lips, you tug at his lapel, "You may have mentioned it once or twice."

Bucky repeats your last three words with a cheeky grin, hand moving daringly closer to your rump.

You brush up against him, breasts full in the tight white dress of your costume. "So, were we gonna get a hotel room or…?" You linger with an innocent expression.

Your laugh is lost amongst the noise of the party as Bucky takes you by the hand. Swerving through the guests in an effort to get to the elevator without knocking anyone over in your giddy excitement to tear each other's costumes off.

* * *

**2034**

You can't help but feel the need to laugh at Bucky’s current predicament. Sitting cross-legged on the walkway in front of the porch with an increasingly sour-faced expression. He's staring down the hollowed-out pumpkin in front of him, twirling the knife absentmindedly in his right hand. Seamlessly maneuvering it between his fingers and over the back of his knuckles.

You look at the other pumpkins already on display on the edge of the porch. A simple _ BOO! _, a more complicated Mickey Mouse, a ghost, three classic Jack o'Lanterns, a strangely detailed spider design.

"She really wanted this?"

Your attention is pulled from the decor and back to your husband. He's holding up the stencil now.

With a sympathetic nod, "Yeah, I'm sorry. I tried to talk her into something more - "

Bucky just waves his hand, focuses back on the stencil, then glares at the pumpkin again. Your gaze draws to the kids playing in the side yard. Rebecca's got her hands out as Timmy climbs up the ladder of the playset. Cautiously watching his every move. Gabriel's on the swingset, gaze drifting from his siblings and over to you two.

You're almost ready to join them when Bucky gives an undignified whine. "Can't I just make the pig? Or the chicken? Hei Hei's fun, right?"

An amused smile breaks out on your face as you crouch down next to him. Taking in the stencil and the pumpkin for yourself.

"It's Maui or bust, baby."

Bucky slumps in defeated annoyance. He starts twirling the knife again as you lean down to peck his cheek.

"Stupid Demi-God. Couldn't wear a shirt. Oh _ no _ , that'd be _ too _ easy," he mutters as he gets to work on the elaborate tattoos of the Disney character.

* * *

**2035**

Sleep came easier these days. With the years, he found the nightmares decreased in intensity and frequency. And if he was lucky, he could go a whole week before his sleep would be abruptly interrupted with sweat-soaked sheets, shaky breaths, and a racing heartbeat. You were always there when they happened, of course. But Bucky doesn't fear the lure of sleep anymore. He savors the feeling of curling around your warm body and drifting off into the feather-light comfort of dreamland.

Tucked in under flannel sheets and that plaid blanket you convinced him you absolutely needed from the store. Your breathing is slow and the natural sound machine he needs to fully drift off. You smell like everything fall. Pumpkin spice lotion and that lingering apple-scented shampoo. Warm skin under the hand situated on your hip has him reeling with emotion. Even now, over ten years on, you still drive him mad. Like he'd have it any other way.

Even with all this, he still can't shake the years of training. Sleeping in foxholes, in unfamiliar locations, in trees, and in warehouses, and everywhere else you could imagine. Always with a threat being imminent, lurking in the shadows and ready to pounce.

It doesn't take much to wake him, not really. He'll pretend for your sake, or to annoy the kids with his obnoxious fake snores. But the sound of cautious footsteps and the opening of a door has him fully alert. Not enough to grab the gun under the box spring. He knows those footsteps, that little whimper.

The bedroom door opens slowly with a tiny creak of the handle. The shadow of a nine-year-old peeks around the frame to look into the dark room. She hesitates before ultimately creeping across the floor.

Rebecca freezes when he sits up, rubs the sleep from his tired eyes.

"What's up, Becca Bear?" Bucky asks with a soft voice.

Her eyes are abnormally wide, breathing quickened, an unease covering her like a cloak. When she doesn't make an effort to speak, he holds his right hand out to her. It takes a moment before she lets him draw her in, sitting her on the edge of the bed.

Bucky notices the way she scoots further up, bringing her legs with her, barely letting her toes peer over the side.

His hand rests on the small of her back as he waits.

When she finally finds the courage, her voice is small; like a child much younger than nine. "I can't sleep."

He hums softly, taking his gaze off her as you stretch and curl in your sleep. Dragging some of the sheets with you as you edge further away from the cool air caused by his movement.

Turning back to his daughter; his girl, his baby. He pushes the long strands of her brown hair back over her ear in an effort to study her face.

"What's going on?"

She hiccups. He takes in the red around her eyes and realizes she's been crying. And worse than that, he only just now sees the purple elephant clutched tightly in her left arm.

"I… I saw a movie when I was at Megan's."

A sleepover with some of her friends over the weekend. She had been acting a little off since she got home but with everything else in the house going a million miles a minute, he hadn't had time to pry into it. But now, here it was on his bed at two in the morning.

"Yeah? What kind of movie?"

Refusing to meet his gaze, she wraps her arms around her bent knees instead. "_ It _."

He really can't help the groan that comes out, trying to hide it with a rough hand dragged over his face.

You had watched the original, the remake, and the remake's sequel together. Correction: you _ forced _ him to watch it with you. Clowns never creeped him out before until those fucking movies. And then his kid watches it? Voluntarily or peer pressured into it, maybe. A great choice for a nine-year-old to see: a killer clown with a taste for kids. She had to be fucking terrified.

Becca's currently eyeing the half-open bedroom door and the closed closet next to it. Bucky gives a little sigh and walks over to close it again. He crouches down in front of her on the floor, so they're at eye level.

He takes in the little lip wobble and the shiver. The way she's clutching the stuffed animal she got for her third birthday, having deemed it as her favorite ever since. It takes the roll of a single tear down her cheek - which he's quick to wipe away with his thumb - to know she won't be returning to her room tonight.

It's been almost three years since they've done this. The last time being caused by a series of recurring dreams about a dinosaur chasing her when she was six.

He gives her a gentle, but tired, smile. Holding up the covers as he says, "Come on."

She scurries in, molding herself along your side back as Bucky squeezes in next to you both. Getting only a tiny sliver of bedding for himself, but that's okay.

He waits for the sniffles to ease out into gentle breaths before he lets himself drift off as well.

* * *

**2036**

It had started over the winter, a nagging little idea in your head that only gained momentum as the snow melted. The ground in view once again and the trees regaining their bright color. And, perhaps, a few well-timed moments where you pouted and told Bucky how much you'd love it if you could just, maybe, do it?

This is how you find yourself with a garden. And, since the kids were there when you picked seed packets, you now have an overwhelming amount of pumpkins. More than you know what to do with.

The first few had been made into pies. Seeds were saved for next year and some were roasted. The next three had made a soup and five loaves of sweet bread. And then it was muffins, pancakes, cheesecake bars, and another pie. No cookies though; cookies were still out of your grasp.

"Hey!"

You turn as Bucky comes striding towards you across the yard, brows drawn with a pointed stare. There's an attempt to play innocent, but he just shakes his head.

"Nah, not gonna work. Drop it, doll."

Your face squishes up from the mother henning, but you relent and place the pumpkin back down on the ground.

He's quick to wrap his arms around you, hands resting over the prominent bump poking out from your burgundy knit sweater. You let him rock you, swaying in his embrace with a content little hum. He's like a personal furnace in the chilly afternoon air.

His breath is warm against your cheek as he nuzzles against the side of your head. "You know the rules. Doc's orders."

You squirm away from his touch, "That was barely ten pounds."

Bending over to swipe up the pumpkin, "Ten pounds too many for you, sweetheart."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Just hate feeling all… you know," you gesture weakly. Your hand makes its way back to your protruding belly, rubbing gently at the flutter-like movement inside.

After adding the pumpkin to the pile in the wheelbarrow, he's quick to wrap you up again. Placing reassuring kisses to your cheeks and then your forehead. His eyes are bright in the cool autumn light.

Pushing your windswept hair back behind your ear, he murmurs, "I know, baby."

An urge overcomes you as you lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Burying your face into the faded gray t-shirt. You're afforded a moment of luxury before you hear the telltale:

"Dad! Mom!"

Bucky smiles at you, warm like apple pie as he steals another kiss from your lips. Turning to look up at the porch where the kids are anxiously waiting.

He waves, "Yeah, we're coming up!"

Another hidden kiss, this time to your cheek. And then he's turning you in his embrace so you can grab hold of his right hand. With his left, he easily hefts the handles of the wheelbarrow up, rolling it slowly towards the house where the kids are eagerly awaiting the chance to start carving.

As you walk up the uneven ground, you give a little grunt. Cupping your bump with your free hand as Bucky side-eyes you.

"I feel like a pumpkin."

You see him glance down at your belly before giving a wicked grin. Dropping the wheelbarrow down in front of the porch, the kids diving forward to grab the perfect one. With them distracted in their search, he spins you into his arms.

"Well, you must be the prettiest pumpkin in the patch," he kisses the tip of your nose.

Grimacing, "It's a miracle we've lasted this long. I'm calling the divorce lawyer tomorrow."

He laughs, pulling you as close as the bump will allow, "I thought I deleted that number in your phone."

You smile into the red plaid of his layered shirt, "Guess you need to up your hacking skills again."

Bucky smirks, dropping his right arm around your waist as he leads you over to the matching rocking chairs on the porch.

* * *

**2037**

The one sure thing, after spending the past eleven Halloweens with you, Bucky doesn't like to do costumes. The charity ball was a little different because you didn't even manage to stay in them for more than two hours, but that's a different story. It's taken twelve years to fully wear him down. Between you and the four kids, he couldn't bring himself to put up much of a fight this time around.

Rebecca had been the one to suggest it after a friend from gym class told her that her family was going as characters from _ Willy Wonka _. After that, her mind had been made up. And she hounded you both with different ideas.

You didn't need to cave in, because you actually _ liked _ the idea - much to Bucky's horror. And then the boys were on board, even after they had spent half the year planning some elaborate _ Jurassic Park _-themed costumes.

But now that he's staring at you in full make-up, he's feeling pretty good about the decision.

Making it across the bedroom with purposeful strides, he snatches up your left hand into his. You startle, but turn it into a charming smile.

"Don't you look handsome."

Placing a passionate kiss to your hand, he trails smaller pecks up your arm, your shoulder, and then carefully to your cheek.

"Mon chéri," He says with a heated gaze.

Your laugh is gorgeous. It makes him want to bend you over the bathroom vanity and forgo all other evening activities. Trick 'r treating be damned.

"Oh, _ Gomez _. Breaking out the French, are we?"

Bucky smirks as he circles his hands around the front of your tight black dress.

"Why? Is it working?"

His hands are so close to that heated center. It wouldn't take much to rack the dress up and just take you now. That look in your eyes, as he meets your gaze in the mirror, seems to say the same.

But footsteps entering the room quickly has him pulling away, albeit with a reluctant half-smile.

"Mom, you look so good!" Rebecca gushes as she walks in with Winnie.

Bucky lets out a startled laugh as he takes in the nine-month-old. Dressed in a grey suit and a painted-on pencil-thin mustache. He's quick to take her out of Rebecca's arms.

"Hey," he coos at his youngest child. "What did they do to you, huh?"

She latches onto his finger with a happy gurgle.

And then he looks at his other two girls in front of the mirror. Rebecca's almost as tall as you now. And the black wig done into two braids does nothing to make her look any younger. Looking at the small babe in his arms once again, it's hard to stop the bombardment of memories. How Becca used to be this small, this innocent.

Touching up the last bit of your makeup, you look over her costume one last time before sending her off to check in on the boys. Gabe was having trouble with that bald cap still for his Uncle Fester costume.

And then you're giggling at the little girl in his arms.

"You look just like Pubert!" Looking up at him with a warm gaze, "It's uncanny, really."

Winnie slobbers on his finger with an excited chirp. Content to be held by her dad and be near you both. Not caring what her siblings had done to her in an effort to give her a good costume. It was either baby Pubert or Grandmama, and she hadn't taken kindly to the raggedy grey wig earlier.

Smoothing out the sleeve of the dark striped suit he has on, you lean in close.

"Shall we, Mr. Addams?"

Bucky hides his chuckle with a purposely sultry voice, "After you, _ darling _."

* * *

**2038**

Bucky pauses at the front door with Gabe's coat in his hand. The sound of your pitiful groan coming from the couch makes him frown. Handing the jacket to his son, he walks back over to you. Wading his way past the used tissues to kneel down on the floor by your head.

"Hey, doll."

You give a little grunt, forcing your eyes open to look at him. They're red-rimmed and heavy-lidded. "_ Hey _," you croak.

Giving you an uneasy smile, he places the back of his hand on your forehead.

"Feel like death," you mutter, voice groggy with an aching throat and stuffy nose. "Wouldn't mind a dose of super serum right about now."

Bucky grimaces at the thought, feeling the warmth of your low-level fever against his skin.

"Dad," Gabe whines. "We're gonna be late!"

Rebecca's quick to shush him. Pointing at Winnie sleeping in the pack n' play next to the couch. You had just gotten her to pass out and were looking forward to the chance of catching some much-needed sleep as well. Timmy's cooped up on the loveseat under his Mickey blanket, breathing heavily through his mouth as he snoozes.

The youngest Barnes boy had brought it home from school. It spread to everyone in the house within a day. Everyone that wasn't affected by the serum yet, that is. Though unspoken to them, Becca and Gabe were already going through the change, so they were cold-free. Timothy hadn't had the serum kick in yet, but judging by his siblings it wouldn't be long at all until he was displaying the signs. And of course, there was you and poor little Winnie.

Bucky replaces his hand with his lips, pressing a kiss to your warm head. You close your eyes at the feeling.

"Won't be gone long, I promise. You need anything from the store?"

You shake your head tiredly.

He studies your face for a moment, you're on the verge of drifting off. The cup is still full of water, a box of tissues within reach. Three pillows under your head, two blankets, family-friendly Halloween movies playing quietly on the TV.

"Just call me if you need anything, all right?"

A slow nod of the head, you reach out to grab his hand. "Thanks, baby," your voice has a slight slur to it as sleep tries to take over. "You got Timmy's bag?"

Looking back at the two kids waiting by the door, Rebecca has her bag as well as Timothy's in her hand. Bucky nods, even though you can't see it.

"Yeah, baby. We'll get him all set up. Soon as he's feeling better."

You give a last little nod, "Good."

Pressing one final kiss to your cheek, Bucky stands up and surveys the sleeping children once more. His heart aching at the thought of leaving you to watch over them when you weren't doing so hot either. But his attention is drawn to the boy inching closer towards the front door.

Timothy had been devastated, between bouts of horrendous coughing, when you read his temperature. Poor kid had been looking forward to it since before school had started, had the perfect costume planned and everything. Bucky would do good by him, fill up his bag when Becca and Gabe went. And if that wasn’t enough, he’d grab a couple bags from the store on the way home.

Ushering his eldest children out the door, shutting it as quietly as humanly possible, they make for the car. Rebecca sits in your seat after proclaiming her _ shotgun _ rights. Gabe sulks in the back, though it's hidden by his grim reaper mask.

Bucky watches the fading orange lights on the porch in the rearview mirror, feeling like he's leaving late of himself behind. But then Rebecca is excitedly telling him what route has the best candy handouts in town and he has something to focus on until he can return home.

* * *

**2039**

This was probably the worst idea ever conceptualized. A haunted house had seemed like a fun time when it was initially suggested sitting at the kitchen table together. Gabe had all but pleaded on his knees to go. Rebecca had given that disinterested sigh, but her eyes were showing her real intent. And Timothy agreed with Gabe because his older brother was asking for something and he wanted in on it. Winnie smashed banana pieces in her high chair and happily repeated _ house, house, house! _ until it felt like nails on a chalkboard.

Of course, you weren't going to take a toddler in there with you. The plan had been for _ you _ to go in, but Winnie didn't like that idea very much. Screaming almost as loudly as the frightened patrons inside the attraction when you tried to hand her over to Bucky. But she just made grabby hands for your face and hair and sweater. Then there was your morning sickness kicking in. Which made Bucky grimace as you dry-heaved in the wood clearing around the makeshift parking lot. This pregnancy seemed to be the worst of all of them.

But because you'd driven all this way and the older kids were bouncing with excited nerves, Bucky took them in. Genius idea, by the way. An armed super-soldier with PTSD going through a simulation where strangers scared and pretended to attack his kids. Absolutely. _ Genius _.

It starts out in a blood-soaked butcher's shop with a zombie eating a screaming butcher. And it only gets worse from there. It's complete sensory overload. The music is ungodly loud, followed by a separate track for ghoulish screams. Not to mention the actual screams from people further through the attraction. Lights are flashing and disorienting their senses as actors jump out at random intervals.

Every instinct in his body, in his mind, ingrained with decades of training is screaming out to him. It's all fake and pretend, but, God. He can't shake the need to shield the kids and unsheath the knife from his boot.

Gabe, the one who had been so excited for it, has his hands locked around Bucky's right wrist. Like he's the only thing between him and certain death. Which, with Bucky's senses going into overdrive, isn't really that far off.

Becca is actually the one leading the way. With Timothy taking up the rear.

She gives startled gasps and shrieks when different actors emerge from their hiding places. The killer clown in the psych ward manages to unnerve her the most. That stupid movie was still coming back and biting her after all this time.

Gabe has his eyes squeezed shut as he lets Bucky pull him through the attraction. Muttering something about not being able to see their faces, not being able to read them right.

And then there's the eight-year-old behind them all. Thoughtfully looking around the different rooms, studying the actors, the lighting, the effects. All with a silent appreciation. He points out things to Bucky, which actually makes his heart rate slow down to a calmer pace.

"The chainsaw sound effect is coming from the handle. It has a trigger when you - " he pauses as a siren goes off with red flashing lights, continuing with a raised voice, "So, when you hit it with your thumb! You activate the noise, Dad!"

Bucky turns his head back, "Thanks, bud."

"You can tell the knife has a rubber tip, because when he pulled it out, it wobbled."

"Mhmm. Thank you, Tim."

"The hidden compartments they jump out from are visible when the strobe light turns blue. You can see the outline of - "

Gabe yanks Bucky to a standstill, which is the exact opposite of what Bucky wants to be doing because an actor with a decaying zombie face is running towards them.

"Oh my God! Dude! Shut up!" He screams at his younger brother.

Bucky pulls Gabe into the next room as Timothy calmly walks behind them, smiling politely at the zombie.

They're in a dark tunnel with disorientating lights on either side of a small walkway. He hates that it actually takes him a moment to regain his balance. And that's when he realizes Rebecca isn't in the room with them.

With a sudden surge of energy, he looks behind him. Tim's looking right up at him.

"Bec kept going, she's probably a room or two ahead of us."

Bucky grunts, "Yeah, buddy. I worked that out too. Thanks."

There's a scream ahead of them. Bucky takes off in a bolt, every single instinct taking over primary functions. Timothy grabs Gabe's hand and leads him on after their dad.

Bucky makes it to the next room, some kind of haunted forest setup. Brushing past the pumpkin-head scarecrows that try to scare him. Through a wispy cloth doorway and then he hears the distinctive sound of a fist hitting fatty flesh, followed by a thud.

Rounding the corner, he finds Rebecca. Who sheepishly looks back at him.

"I might have punched a guy."

Bucky grips her shoulders, looks down at the actor in a scarecrow costume who's out cold.

"What happened?" he asks with a surprisingly calm voice.

At that, she cowers a bit, leaning back in her father's arms. For protection. Bucky sees red.

"He followed me from that other room," she points back at the haunted forest. "And then he pushed me against that wall and held me there. Which, they're not supposed to actually touch us, right? So, I just… I…"

"Did the right thing," Bucky finishes. Feeling the leech of revenge curling through his bones as he holds her tight against his chest.

He turns back to see Timothy leading a frightened Gabe down the hall. And then he looks at the emergency exit door a few feet away.

You're obviously horrified when Bucky emerges with the kids. But at the same time, not too surprised by the turn of events. Taking over when he walks off to speak to the person in charge.

After lashing out the property owner, the shift manager, and anyone else who would listen to an enraged dad for thirty minutes, Bucky makes it back to the car. Winnie's passed out on Becca's chest. Gabe is wrapped up in your arms. And Tim's on the hood of the car, going over the different points of interest in the house to a new set of ears.

"The strobe lights were synchronized with the music, so when the track featured a blade hitting metal, that was the cue for the actors to come out."

You nod heavily, rocking the older boy in your arms. "I see. Simple but unnoticed by patrons."

Tim nods happily, "Exactly!"

Gabe lifts his head up as Bucky comes to rest next to you. He studies his dad's face for a moment and Bucky lets him.

"You're annoyed," he states. Squints slightly, "But also… pleased? Your shoulders say mad, but the sorta smile says content."

Bucky ruffles his hair, making Gabe give an unamused huff. And then he locks in on you.

"It's taken care of."

You hum, "And how many bodies did you leave behind?"

He scrunches his face, but Timothy beats him to it. Sliding off the car with a disinterested, "Dad could never kill anyone, mom."

He walks over to a nearby picnic table to look at a pumpkin display that's caught his interest.

Gabe nods, "Yeah, mom. Dad's too nice for that kind of stuff."

Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he saunters over to join his younger brother. You and Bucky share a silent look. It was a conversation that needed to be had. But not yet. And definitely not tonight.

Bucky, surprisingly sheepish, takes your hand in his. Smooths the metal fingers across your delicate skin.

Looking down at the sign of gentle affection, you ask with a soft voice, "Do we need to buy Reese's pumpkins on the way home?"

After a moment, he nods. Spending his energy focusing on the chatter of two boys, the gentle humming of his eldest rocking his youngest, the intricate lines and patterns of your hand. Anything to tether him here to the moment.

"Okay."

You squeeze his hand tightly. Look at the kids and then to him. Giving a quieter, reassuring, "Okay."

* * *

**2040**

It became a tradition shortly after the first kindergarten field trip to a pumpkin patch, followed by two more subsequent trips for each Barnes child; an initiation rite of sorts. All Rebecca could talk about for a full week, was going to that farm and all the pumpkins that stretched as far as the eye could see. Bajillions of them, really. And now, each October, you visited no less than five farms before Halloween.

The Johnson farm down the road had the best doughnut holes he had ever tasted in his life. It was a struggle to not buy them all for himself when they opened every day. Wilson's Cider Mill, about three miles north, was more for the autumn experience of apple picking. Though they had a massive playground that the kids always went crazy over. Grandpa's Pumpkin Patch had the famous corn maze that the kids always competed to race through, trying to better their time from the previous year. Cobblestone had a giant craft barn that Bucky always seemed to lose you in. Only finding you an hour later with a wagon full of wreaths, decorative signs, scented candles, and more painted pumpkins for the house.

The family favorite seemed to be The Great Pumpkin. It was a bit of a drive, but always worth it once the kids saw the sign at the entrance of the gravel driveway. The pumpkins were reasonably priced, their apple cider slushies were a month-long craving and the petting zoo? Well, it's no wonder the kids liked it so much.

And it was the signature photo in front of the giant wooden pumpkin by the main barn that became a staple of the Halloween season as well. It was an annual tradition that was now a time capsule for you both - looking back at the kids' growth through the years.

So, when the usual trip had been suggested over dinner one night, you were both a little surprised by the lackluster response.

Rebecca had given that sigh that had become an unfortunate replacement for actual words these days. Gabe had pushed his food around and seemed generally disinterested in the whole thing, muttering something about needing to log onto his game later. Timothy had at least nodded and asked to have it written onto the family schedule for him to compare with his current line up. Which, for him, was a rather positive reaction. Winnie had been the sole child to excitedly start babbling in the usual toddler way about _ pumkins pumkins pumkins! _ The twins were too young to do much more than gurgle in their bouncers.

It was a sign of growing up that neither of you were too fond of witnessing.

The drive was filled with the usual groans, screams, general fights about who did this or was touching/kicking this that comes with six kids. Bucky was white-knuckled the whole way as you tried to grip his leg in a reassuring way.

Bucky had never felt more on edge in his life as a parent than this trip. Winnie rode in the orange wagon that Timothy pulled. Gabe kicked the ground and Rebecca busied herself on her phone as you walked towards the barn. You had the twins in their stroller with the snap-on car seat attachments. Rebecca's phone was _ this _ close to being taken and thrown across the farm by Bucky. But he caught your knowing gaze and tried to focus his attention on the youngest Barnes.

If he squinted, he could see a three-year-old Rebecca in Winnie's place. Smiling back at him with rosy cheeks and laughing in pure childlike glee at all the animals. Instead, she's trudging along next to you, barely sparing a glimpse over the edge of her screen.

Timothy parks the wagon and Bucky scoops up the giggling toddler onto his shoulders. You delicately guide your oldest around a rocky section of path with a hand on her back. Not even a word of thanks, just an irritated sneer. And he really wants to send that phone flying and ask where the hell his daughter disappeared to. But Winnie's tugging on his hair and attempting to destroy his eardrums by screaming _ Baas! Baas! _ Which is Winnie for _ goats _ and _ sheep _.

Timothy's sweet on her most of all, he takes her by the hand and guides her into the pen. And Bucky knows she'll be safe as long as her big brother is around. He prefers to watch the scene play out from the fence anyway.

You're on a bench by the small play area, fussing between the covered car seats. Who would have thought? _ One more kid, baby. What's one more? Don't you want just one more? _ Careful what you wish for. It was a shock, for sure. Seeing those two little blobs on that first ultrasound. He damn near fell out of the chair and needed to have a doctor sent in because _ twins _. But right now, they seem to be rather content and not causing you much stress for a change.

Rebecca's next to you, looking ready for this whole trip to be over with. And Gabe is standing a reasonable distance away from him, looking a twinge envious of Timothy being in the animal pen. But he's going through that _ I'm too old for that stuff _ stage, so it looks like he's gonna miss out.

"Dad," Gabe's staring out at Winnie, "I think she's talking to the goats."

Bucky smiles, ducks his head down, "I'm sure she is."

Gabe inches closer, "No, no I mean, I really think she is."

He lifts his gaze, trying to find the joke in his expression, but there's nothing there. He just points at the center of the enclosure and Bucky finds himself turning to look. And there in the middle of it all is little Winnie with a circle of goats around her.

"Uh…" he looks over at you, now with your hands full with a fussy baby boy.

He spots the food cone in her hand that none of them seem all that interested in. Timothy's edging closer to them as he also watches her.

Gabe flicks him on the back of the head once he's close enough. Tim ducks out of the way with a yelp.

"What's Winnie doing?"

He shrugs, "She's just sitting there and petting 'em."

With a shake of his head, Gabe presses on, "But like, is she talking to them and forming a cult or what?"

"I dunno."

Bucky's already opening the latch on the wooden gate to investigate for himself. He hears the boys continuing to bicker behind him as he maneuvers between the stray animals.

"Well, she can't be talking to them."

"Course she can."

"You can't talk to animals."

"I can."

"No, you can't!"

"Can too. Hey, Mr. Goat. How's it going?"

"Oh, that's some crap. They can't understand you!"

"You never said they needed to understand me. Just that I could talk to them."

"Get out of there so I can put you in a headlock."

Bucky forces his laughter down as he approaches the circle of goats that kindly part for him. Crouching down next to his little girl who's petting a smaller goat.

"Hey, sweetheart. Whatcha doing?"

She grins up at him all teeth with her eyes squeezed shut, "I go _ pat pat pat _ on the baas."

"Uh-huh. Looks like you've got some friends."

Winnie gives a big nod as she pets the goat a little faster, "Lots of baas for me! Friends for Winnie!"

Plopping down on the hay next to her, he observes the strange way the goats are all acting. In the past years, they'd clamber over anyone to get a bite of food, jumping and running. But here he is, sitting in a _ calming circle… _of goats. Bucky's seen a lot in his time, but this just might take the cake.

The same thing happens when they're in the stables. The horses and llamas are drawn not to the food offered by Gabe and Bucky, but to the little girl who can't even peer over the fence at them.

And when they walk past the pond to get to the pumpkin patch, there's a line of ducks following right after her. Not running or chasing, just calmly walking in a little line like they're following their mama.

It's at this point that you've noticed something's up. When the kids are looking through the field for the perfect ones - after you repeated that, _ yes, Rebecca Elizabeth, that means you too _. You draw Bucky back by the crook of his arm.

"Was animal whisperer part of the serum or…?"

He shakes his head, watching a flock of crows taking interest in the girl with the bouncing pigtails who's smacking a giant pumpkin with chubby toddler hands.

"Yeah, _ no. _"

There's a little gasp next to him. Wrapping his right arm around your waist, he draws you closer.

"So, just to set the record straight," you give a hesitant glance around, just to ensure your privacy. "Three serum-enhanced kids, a toddler with possible mutation genes, and a set of twins?"

Bucky smirks, "Don't forget your hundred and twenty-three-year-old husband."

That earns a startled laugh from you. He kisses the top of your head.

On the way to the parking lot, you force the kids to stop in front of the giant pumpkin. Luckily, the twins are awake when this happens. Because you hand Maggie to Gabe and Georgie to Rebecca. You even manage to get your oldest to give a half-smile for some of the pictures, which is a victory in itself. And best of all, there's a single photo with everyone's eyes open and little to no blur.

Bucky has help from the two boys loading the pumpkins into the back of the car while you get the three youngest situated into car seats. The drive home is relatively quiet because the twins pass out almost immediately and Winnie not far after. And the kids know to be quiet when the twins are sleeping.

When the car's unloaded and Bucky is moving the pumpkins to the porch, Rebecca is waiting in one of the rockers. Watching him over the brim of her phone, sipping on the last of her apple cider slushie.

With the last one placed on the bottom step, he drops down into the matching rocking chair next to her.

After a moment, with the sound of the wind over the field the only sound, her quiet voice rings out, "That was fun."

* * *

**2041**

It had been a long week. That rush leading up to the holiday always was. At least you weren't shelling out for as many costumes this year. Which was a good thing, considering a great deal was going to ongoing vet bills for Alpine.

Ever since Winnie had been playing on the floor two weeks ago with Al lounging in a patch of rare autumn sunlight.

_ "Al's got owies, Mommy." _

You hadn't found a single bite or scratch. But knowing your girl, you knew it wasn't that kind of owie. And the vet confirmed that Alpine was getting older and would need something for the arthritis in his hips and how lucky it was to catch it so quickly. No thanks to your tiny animal whisperer.

Bucky lazily passes the candy bowl your way, flicking his own empty wrapper onto the growing pile accumulating on the coffee table.

Alpine is fitfully snoozing in your lap, legs stretched out into the decorative pumpkin pillow squished up against the armrest of the couch. His white fur shedding onto the orange and yellow plaid blanket draped across your lap.

You flick through the different shows. The _ Halloween _ reruns on AMC, skipping quickly past a trick or treat episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, _ Night of the Living Dead _ on TCM, Dalek-themed episodes on BBC America, and the go-to _ Hocus Pocus _ on Freeform.

You give him a slow look, a smile growing big on your face as you silently ask.

Bucky, for his part, drops his head back against the couch with a groan. You attempt to sway him with your hand, but he just deflects it with an easy twist and dry _ ha-ha _.

"Come on. We haven't even watched it once this year."

"All the more reason to find something else!"

You give a little huff, scrunching down into the couch with a scowl. Bucky reaches over and snatches the remote control and surprisingly places it on the table to let the movie continue on.

He gets the last Reese's pumpkin from the bowl for that.

The movie plays on in relative silence. You watch the old baby monitor flick between the two cribs in the twins' room. Winnie's been asleep for two hours. Rebecca and Gabe are at different sleepovers. And Timothy just went up to bed an hour ago. So, you have the whole place to yourself… plus one senior cat.

"Did you get her door fixed?" Your voice is purposely soft for Alpine's benefit as you glance over at your husband.

Bucky kicks his feet up, switching the left leg over the right, "Yeah, but the steel hinge won't hold long."

"Well, maybe it's time to call up Wakanda and beg them to make us a vibranium door."

He scoffs, "Sure, let me just ring up the King himself and ask him to make a door strong enough to withstand our _ teenager _ . _ Hi, it's just me, the broken white guy from a decade back _."

With a little grunt, you shift your legs, careful of Alpine as you move.

"Well, live it up, Sarge. This is the last Halloween we got before things go to shit."

With a groan, he shields his face, voice broken, "Don't remind me."

"No, no, no. Can't escape it," you chide. Lightly, though because it's still a sore subject. "They start the unit after winter break. We have this, Christmas, then we have to have the talk."

Bucky peers out from behind his right hand, slouched down so far onto the cushions, "Can we _ not _ talk about how we're going to ruin our daughter's perception of me right now?"

You rescind, offering a sheepish look, "Sorry."

One semester left until Rebecca's history class jumped into the fascinating subject of World War II and came face to face with a hidden family secret. You made it fourteen years without knowing how to cover that little topic with the kids. The fact that daddy was born in 1917, taken as a prisoner of war, and went on to become a brainwashed assassin for the next seventy years. They never managed to cover _ that _ in the parenting books.

So, you kept it to yourselves. Let the kids know him only as their father and not as a super-soldier. Though, the serum kickstarting early for them all hadn't helped matters in the slightest. But now there was no escaping it. They had to sit Rebecca down and tell her everything before she found out on her own.

But you could worry about that another night. You could worry about what you were buying the mids for Christmas this year another night. You could worry about the last-minute costume details and party snacks for another few days. You could worry about Alpine another night.

Tonight, you were going to sit on the couch, surrounded by an overwhelming amount of decorations and plastic toys and stuffed animals, eat candy, and watch a classic Halloween movie with your husband.

Not so discreetly, Bucky scoots closer to you. Drapes an arm over your shoulder and rests the bowl of candy in the space between your laps. Your head instantly rests against his shoulder as he holds up a piece of chocolate for you to eat.

"What'd you wanna watch after this?" You ask languidly.

He watches the screen for a moment, listens to the gentle purrs from the snowy white cat on your lap. "I dunno. Wasn't there one you wanted me to see?"

You almost knock your head against his chin in your excitement. Reaching for the remote, you easily switch to your home screen and begin your search, much to Bucky's amusement.

Judging by his reaction to the movie poster, you know it's going to be a fun night.

He drops his head to look at you, "Do I even want to know?"

You start the movie and place the remote on your side of the couch.

"This, my dear sweet husband, is a cult classic. And I will take personal offense if you don't allow me the _ pleasure _ of watching it with you."

That makes his brows raise a little. And they only shoot higher when a pair of bright red lips appear on screen. And you cackle with pure glee as the song starts.

_ "Michael Rennie was ill / the day the earth stood still / But he told us where we stand / And Flash Gordon was there / in silver underwear / Claude Raines was the invisible man." _

And for a moment, as you curl into his side, you swear it almost feels like no time has passed at all since that first holiday shared together in the tiny studio apartment in the city. Just you, Bucky, and a bowl of forgotten candy.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on my [Tumblr](https://ussgallifreyfics.tumblr.com).


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